


you are never coming home (never coming home)

by Odasakus



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 04:23:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20401624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odasakus/pseuds/Odasakus
Summary: ryo’s death ripped a hole in edo





	you are never coming home (never coming home)

There’s someone inside of Edo Phoenix’s chest and they’re screaming. 

They wrap their little hands around his aortic valves and tug, desperate to be listened to, no more dignified than a child whose parents won’t listen. 

Only, Edo knows well enough that listening to them will result in him screaming too, and he can’t have that. 

Can’t have the stares, can’t have the questions, can’t have the caring impatience. 

He still remembers how it was when his father died. All of the kindness that came in, wanting him to be better already, but not too better, not too fast, because then something had to be wrong. 

When he pretended to be better, people got more upset. 

At least the first time, he’d had DD, but even he—

The screaming and pulling grows more frantic as he thinks about his step father, a man he hasn’t mourned yet, because he was preoccupied with the betrayal, the heartbreak, but whose death he knew would eventually break like a wave, grief drowning him day after day as it was threatening to now. 

The saving grace, of Ryo Marufuji’s heart stopping, is that nobody knew they were involved, and so nobody knows to ask if he’s okay. 

He can’t be grieving the wrong way, if nobody knows he‘s grieving. 

(or if he didn’t let himself grieve.)

Involved isn’t even a good word for it. They weren’t dating, they’d both have turned their heads if anyone called them friends, and yet: It was Something. 

Involved, certainly, theirs, and private. And something good. 

Warm, and comfortable, and somehow the first thing that ever felt like it was truly his. 

When he died, before Edo could know he had to say goodbye, it’d birthed this thing inside him, this tiny clone that lived in his core and chewed anxiously on every tendon. 

He doesn’t know how to mourn Ryo Marufuji, and so he locks the grief inside of the cavity in his chest, right in the spot that killed Ryo, and swallows the key. 

It isn’t as if he can say what he feels, anyway. 

It isn’t as though he can say to somebody: My boyfriend is dead, and I don’t know how to make it stop hurting. 

He wasn’t his boyfriend. And it isn’t going to stop hurting. He just holds onto the hope that one day, the grief will suffocate on its own despair. 


End file.
